Mistress and the sullen teen got home just long enough on Saturday, late morning, to shower, repack, and then climb in the car with me for a 4 hour drive to the south for a family funeral.
Sadly, our schedule did not allow even for a “quickie” before my over traveled Mistress was back on the road again, and the presence of our daughter in the back seat even restricted our ability to improvise with a little smutty talk and groping on our drive.
This is a big family gathering for Mistress. A Matron of the family had passed, and cousins, aunts and others from far and ride were all arriving. In this smallish town to pay tribute.
Once we arrived, Slave was concerned that there might not be a chance to relieve the pent up sexual demand from those long, hard days of denial any time soon.
(I know, I am a spoiled and pampered house Slave, Tammy…. But still…I have been conditioned for indulgence, not denial).
But Mistress and Slave are also clever and conniving . a block of rooms had been booked at a rather shopworn Fairfield Inn, and that’s where the sullen teens and their grandmother and others would be lodged.
But under the ruse that we did not want to take up the limited supply of rooms reserved for family, Mistress found something a bit more sumptuous, and private for our little reunion : an old Victorian Inn, not far from the river bank.
And, what a shame! we got the last room available.
"Sorry girls, the place was full, so you will have to stay where grandma and the others are staying...."
The teens were cleverly dropped off to check in and clean up for the big family meal. Now the clock was ticking. We had about 90 minutes.
We found the lovely old painted lady, the paint a bit faded, but the interiors very charming. And the Old Bull Mooser actually did stay here once.
I hope the Inn keeper was not too offended when we politely turned down his invitation for a tour of his mansion.
“Actually, we can look around later…. Just show us to our room, please.”
And what a room. Bay windows. Period furnishings. And a lovely huge four poster bed.
Once the bed was closed, Mistress was in my arms.
“Damn. Wish I had remembered some ropes for switch day, Mistress.”
“Do you really think it would be polite to do switch day, and then go to a funeral, Slave?”
“What did the old rough rider say, Mistress, ‘speak softly, but carry a big stick?’ At least I should have brought our riding crop.”
We quickly unpacked our things, stripped off those traveling duds and pulled back the sheets.
It had been since Tuesday morning after all.
Mistress’s delicious clean shaven parts were ready for my full attention.
And when she seemed pleased with my efforts, she lavished her cock with plenty of attention as well. (BTW, Mistress’s technique is much more polished than what a certain Presidential candidate demonstrated at the Iowa state fair over the weekend.)
“May I fuck you now, Mistress.”
“You seem a little impatient, Slave….”
“Well…. I mean…. It’s been a few days, Mistress…. “
She was driving me crazy with her lips and those well manicured fingers. And she knew it.
But she finally relented when it seemed my level of frustration had turned to code red.
“Why don’t I ride my cock now, Slave….”
It was an excellent idea.
